For the Love of Merlin
by DearSunshine
Summary: Attending Hogwarts was a secret for her. All hail the Princess and welcome her to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. With her neighboring royals attending school, and a new muggleborn friend, why are they important? / Years one through seven.
1. prologue

_Dear lovely people, please be kind. _

_I want to revamp and re-do _**_this_**_ story, and I will try to re-upload and re-write every chapter I've ever written - and continue this story, obviously._

_I wish everything I've ever imagined for for this story could automatically translate into words but alas, there has been no such invention that could allow me to do so. A lot has changed since I've attempted to re-do this story. I am a lot busier (with my job and internship) but I want to do this. _

_I feel the need to do this._

_I've also made a tumblr page, if you all are interested in seeing how I imagine everybody in this story. There's also a very nifty submit button if you ever want to submit something. The URL is d-dearsunshine. If you notice, I've had it for a __**very**__ long time and I have only just introduced it._

_I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

><p>Although I may not be a lioness, I am a lion's cub, and inherit many of his qualities - Elizabeth I<p>

* * *

><p>"She dyed her hair! It's a scandal!" A shrill, loud voice exclaimed as she entered the room full of writers. Six writers, not including the editor-in-chief that had just waltzed into the room as if she were a queen, occupied it.<p>

"Her hair?" one said.

"Yes her hair! She dyed it blonde!" The original voice exclaimed once more.

"Blonde? But her brunette hair was beautiful!" another said.

"That's what I said! Mirazko, find me a quill and parchments!" the obnoxious and loud original voice exclaimed, snapping her fingers in attempt to make her assistant listen.

Not that there would be any problem. Mirazko had always been an obedient one but the loud woman always had some need to always feel superior than others.

"Don't you think you're over exaggerating this entire thing? I'm sure you dyed your hair when you were younger. She's a preteen for Merlin's sake," Mirazko said as she handed her boss her enchanted quill and parchment.

"Tsk, tsk Mirazko," Frenchie then said as she casted a spell that brought her quill to life and parchment in the air, following closely as they walked towards her office. "You work for Wicked Gossip and everything related to the Princess is valuable and bound to sell."

Ordering her assistant to bring her some coffee and pumpkin pasties, Frenchie turned to her objects that were still floating in midair and with the flick of her wand closed the door that separated her office from the rest of 'dumb writers' in the floor.

"Now write this," she began and formulated sentences in her brain, spewing them out seconds later. "Has the Princess gone wild? Her already stringy yet beautiful chesnut hair has gone completely blonde! Is this a sign saying that this will bring the country to ruin once she - "

"I strongly suggest you don't finish that sentence," a commanding male voice was heard in her office, snapping Frenchie out of her thoughts as the little hairs in the back of her neck stood, "Especially when I can make sure you never work in the industry again."

He was sitting on her uncomfortable couch, much too soft for his taste, flipping through the pages at the distasteful magazine the woman had on her coffee table, not sparing a glance to the woman who called herself a journalist.

"King Barron," she exclaimed and quickly bowing, the quill and parchment falling to the floor just as quick.

Without a single word from the King, one of his two bodyguards flicked his wand and let the parchment burn.

"I suggest you don't write things like that about my daughter and the future Queen again," King Barron said standing looking towards the woman before his eyes focused on other things in her office, then taking a seat behind her desk – as if it were his.

Before he could continue Mirazko walked in and while trying to balance her boss's coffee and the pasties in one hand and the other arm full of papers that were on the verge of slipping she gasped in surprise and attempted to bow.

"King Barron!" The redheaded assistant exclaimed, giving a slight bow to the man who had been in the throne years before she was born.

Standing from the seat, he went over to help the young woman, grabbing the pasties and the coffee and setting them down on Frenchie's desk.

The King couldn't but help himself with the breaded dessert, taking a seat once more, "Who made these?"

"I did, your highness," Mirazko responding, the stacks of papers were pressed against her chest, her eyes looking down to the floor too scared to glance up.

"They're wonderful," he responded. "If you would be so kind to write me the recipe and send it over to the castle Miss Jarah, I would love to replicate it."

The country's native nodded, feeling quite giddy that the King knew her name, before turning on her heel, closing the door and hurrying back to her desk to begin writing the recipe her Nana had taught her.

You could hear the whispers amongst the other writers in the room, gossiping as Mirazko had told who was visiting their _lovely_ editor.

"Miss Skeeter I would like to know what your problem with my daughter is," the King asked, eyebrow rising in curiosity. "You see, every time I pick up the magazine you run and I fund for, it seems that you are only spreading lies about the future Queen."

Frenchie's mouth stayed closed, her lips forming into a tight line that was received with a couple of chuckles from the King's bodyguards. They had dealt with her before, and were aware how she was all talk but no action.

When there was no response from her, the King spoke up again, "If you wish to keep seeing this magazine in the stands, you will kindly step down from any preposterous gossip you make up about my daughter."

Frenchie's gaped, the usual quick replies dying before they exited her mouth but soon shut at the king's penetrating gaze in slight revolt.

"I have none, your Excellency," she uttered words that she had lost before continuing confidently, "I can guarantee you that but it is what sells in the streets."

"I understand how that works Ms. Skeeter but must you make lies about her?" he asked, turning back to his body guards as he heard Frenchie's voice say she wouldn't let it happen again.

The Editor-in-Chief of Wicked Gossip Magazine's gaze dropped to the floor. If her twin sister had been here, she'd probably laugh at how Frances Skeeter was being scolded like a little child in grade school.

Rita Skeeter would never let her sister live this down if she knew about it.


	2. chapter two

**_AN:_**_ I'll have you know this chapter is pretty boring. It's basiclly introduction 2.0, with the main character. You have to remember Brea's an eleven-year-old princess, so she can be kind of snotty, and have the attitude of not wanting to be a princess. _

_It also introduces other important characters, but they're only mentioned. Though two of them **will** appear in the next chapter._

* * *

><p>Brea Arielle Charlotte Kaylin Gotha-Chaplin absolutely detested her complete name. Had her name only been Brea or Arielle or Charlotte or Kaylin, she would have been fine with it.<p>

But the name as a whole didn't even roll off of her tongue _nicely_.

She had always whined to Gertrude, her caretaker, why she couldn't just change it.

"Because that's your parents choose for you," Gertrude would respond, "but if you had to choose one, which name do you like the most?"

The recently returned to brunette shrugged, crossing her legs under her dress before Gertrude gave her a stare that would revert her to sitting like a lady.

"I like Brea," she decided on, tugging on her dark braid that her caretaker had done earlier that day, "Brea Gotha sounds normal, right?"

The older woman nodded, agreeing with her - not that she was old. Gertrude was only sixteen when she had been given the job to take care of Brea since the moment she was born.

It was a prestigious job among her family, seeing as more of them worked in the kitchens or the gardens. Gertrude had no idea how she had been given such a task but she didn't mind.

She treated Brea was her own.

That was close to eleven years ago, now the girl was going to be sent off to Hogwarts – something that she wasn't fond of letting her do.

Like most royals, Brea lived a sheltered life.

A private had taught Brea's basic education tutor – reading, writing, and basic mathematics – and by Gertrude, anything the caretaker felt the need to teach her, she would.

Brea did have her own tutors for a lot of things though; one for school subjects, others that taught etiquette, horseback ridding, and stuff like that.

"I'm nervous," Brea then confessed as she continued to pull on her hair.

"Why so?" Gertrude asked, knitting the scarf she was making for the princess.

"What if people don't like me?" the girl whined, "I don't know anybody there! I don't understand why mother wants me to this school. I thought princesses had to stay in the castle and learn."

Jaclyn Cleo Gotha had been the one to suggest that her daughter went off to a far off land that would encourage her to develop her magical skills, away from watchful eyes like Frenchie Skeeter.

Jaclyn had made a strong case to her husband, the King, as to why their daughter should go to Hogwarts. Top notch private education, safe and far from watchful eyes from gossip magazines, and the fact that her daughter would at least have _some_ kind of normalcy would help her relax at night.

The school was in the United Kingdom but at least they were a simple flick from their wand away.

"People will like you," Gertrude tried to calm the princess down, "I am sure of it."

"But Frenchie Skeeter doesn't like me, she always writes nasty things about me, what's to say these people will like me?" Brea asked, the worried tone in her voice still present.

Gertrude gave a little laugh, stopping her knitting for a minute and patted the girl's head whose lips only pouted. "That vile woman has nothing but free time on her hands and making up gossip about you is what she does to get money darling but don't let that get to you.

"Besides, you'll have William and Martin," Gertrude said with a laugh once more, resuming her knitting. Brea only shrugged.

William and Martin Brougham were the royal twins from the kingdom next door and were going to attended Hogwarts for the same reasons Jaclyn wanted Brea to go to. However, for the twins, it had been their fathers – the King's – choice.

"I don't think they like me all that much," Brea confessed to Gertrude.

"Don't say that, of course they do," Gertrude responded as she continued to focus on her knitting, Brea only grumbling incoherent words under her breath soon after. She was sure that at least Martin didn't like her. He was always so uptight and never wanted to play whenever they frequented each other's castles. Brea felt like Martin's only happiness in life came from calling her ideas of having fun, stupid.

William and Brea did get along from time to time; however, he always did enjoy teasing her for the smallest things. As per custom in the Sempieternal Kingdom, Brea had begun learning languages and Riparian's was the first on the list due to its close connections to her country.

William always laughed at her accent when she tried to practice, Martin always correcting her when she said it wrong; but at the end of the day, they always settled in just speaking English.

Sempieternal's official language was English thus making business transactions with other countries much easier. Either way, it annoyed Brea often, seeing as she never made fun of them when they spoke English. She never commented on their awful the Riparian accent. She often tried to not let small things like those get to her - she had to rule the country one day and having such a stupid argument or grudge let her win over wouldn't do her any good in the future.

"Do you know when my gran returns?" Brea asked Gertrude curiously, slouching in the couch.

"Your mother said in two days time."

Brea frowned deeply, realizing she wouldn't see her grandmother before she went off to Hogwarts. She loved her grandmother the most, and while she loved her parents because they gave her birth, her grandmother was closest to her. It broke her heart knowing that she wouldn't get to say goodbye to her properly, but at least they could owl each other.

"Alright, time to get you ready for dinner," Gertrude stated as she stood up, placing her kitting equipment on her chair, grabbing the girl's hand and heading.


End file.
